


Strategic Planning

by almostjulie



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing a Bed, hand wavy plot contrivances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostjulie/pseuds/almostjulie
Summary: Adrift in a disabled ship, low on options, Finn and Poe have some choices to make.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is appreciated!

They make it off the planet -- barely. 

They had suspected, even before they came here, that it was a setup, but the Resistance was in no position to flat out say no to possible allies, and Poe volunteered to meet them. Because of course he did, stupid self-sacrificing Poe, so kriffing predictable. He left Finn no choice, really, but to stand up beside him and volunteer, too.

Things went south pretty much right away. Now, they were running through the shipyard, Finn pulling Poe along with one hand, dodging blaster fire, both of them firing off shots back at their pursuers as they ran. Finn is thinking that they’re almost away, but as they round a corner around a light freighter near where they’d docked, he sees that security forces have surrounded their ship, and there are half a dozen blasters pointed right at them.

He spins and pushes Poe to the ground, protecting him from the blaster fire. “We gotta fall back,” he says, sprawled on top of Poe. 

Poe swallows and nods. “Where to?”

Finn looks around, assessing their options. He isn’t really sure, but then there’s a long, shrill beep, and both their heads turn to see BB-8 a couple of clicks away, peaking out behind a small yacht. “That direction’s good,” says Finn, as he helps Poe up. 

“Right behind you, buddy.” 

They’re chased by blaster fire all the way to the yacht, but it provides decent cover. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship,” Poe says to BB-8. “But I’m very glad you didn’t.” 

One of their pursuers charges towards their hiding spot, and Finn takes him down with a single shot. “You have a plan?”

“Of course.”

“Well?” Finn asks, when said plan isn’t immediately forthcoming.

There’s a long stretch of silence before Poe says, “We take whatever ship we can break into first, and get the hell off this planet.” 

They don’t have many options. “See what you can do. I’ll keep them off us.”

Poe nods to BB-8 and they each head for one of the nearby ships. Finn exchanges blaster fire; their pursuers getting closer. 

BB-8 manages to pick a lock first. It’s a derelict transport that looks like it hasn’t flown in ages. But the control board lights up when Poe starts the pre-flight, and the engines only shudder momentarily before they start to purr. “Strap in, this could get bumpy.” 

***

They can’t take off without being noticed, of course, but they lose their tail in the thick clouds that dominate the high atmosphere, before piercing through the exosphere and out into space. Poe pilots the transport towards one of the planet’s small, misshapen moons. They manage to get around to the far side of it when the engine lets out a sickening rattle followed quickly by a bang and then silence, punctuated only by Poe saying under his breath, “Well, kriff.” 

They’re drifting in silence above the moon, powerless. 

Poe quickly collects himself again, and he and BB-8 get to troubleshooting. Finn unbuckles his harness and heads to check out the rest of the transport and assess the damage from the chase. 

It doesn’t take long. The main passenger compartment is sparse, just a few low, wide benches, but it’s also a mess, full of trash, as well as debris from where part of the interior wall shattered from a cannon blast as they were chased out of the shipyard. No structural damage to the ship, though which is a relief. There’s a tiny fresher, which seems operational, and a small cargo hold, which is mostly full of more trash: empty crates and scrap metal and similar odds and ends. There are a few items and clothing, too, and a few gallons of potable water. And, tucked in the back and likely forgotten, a nearly full crate of ration bars. At least they won’t starve to death, Finn thinks. 

***

When Finn heads back to the cockpit, a couple of ration bars in hand, Poe is still consulting with BB-8, checking wiring and readouts. Finn sits in the co-pilot seat and waits -- and tries not to read too much into BB-8’s distressed tone. 

“Not your fault, Bee,” Poe says. “We wouldn’t have made it off-world without you.” 

BB-8 gives out a low whistle of disagreement. A droid, expressing something akin to guilt. There was a time, not so long ago, that Finn wouldn’t have believed it. He’s still not sure he’d believe it for any droid but BB-8.

Poe looks over to Finn with a tight smile. “Here’s the deal: engines aren’t going to be operational without major repair and parts replacement. We have limited power. We sent out a distress call already on the encrypted channel, but it could be hours or days before we get picked up. If we keep all systems running, we’ll be narrowing our rescue window. We need to figure out if we can shut anything off, and it could get a little uncomfortable in here.” 

Finn nods. “What are our options?”

Poe starts listing off the systems that need power. “Lights, scrubbers--”

“I’m just going to go ahead and say that the oxygen scrubbers are essential.”

“Agreed.” Poe continues his list, ticking off systems with his fingers, “filters, heat, comms, gravity. Obviously the less we need to keep on the better.”

“We can lose the lights.” 

“Right. Gravity needs to stay on, there’s too much debris in here to do without.” Poe tenses up. “Also, full disclosure, gravity and the scrubbers seem to be tied together, and I might not be able to turn off the gravity without cutting the oxygen.”

“Yeah, don’t want that happening. How about comms? You said you already sent a call.” 

BB-8 beeped something that Finn didn’t entirely catch. He was working on it, but his binary still wasn’t that great. He definitely heard [no] and maybe [lost]. Poe summarizes: “We’re drifting, so it would be best to keep the comms, too.” 

Finn can’t disagree with that. “Okay,” he says, nodding at BB-8. 

“We probably have enough juice to run either the filters or the heat along with the other systems for awhile, but not both.” 

Finn weighs that. “Cut the heat then. I’d rather be a little cold than be coughing and wheezing from bad air.” 

“Filters, scrubbers, gravity and comms it is. Let’s get to work, Beebee.” 

Finn stands and heads for the cargo hold. “There were some blankets in the hold,” he calls back. “We’re gonna need them. Gimme a minute before you cut the lights.” 

***

Finn comes back with two blankets, a tarp, and three tunics -- everything that was wearable. He throws two of the tunics to Poe, who immediately notices that Finn’s only kept one for himself. He tries to give one back, but Finn refuses. “Can’t we arm wrestle for it or something?”

Finn snorts out a laugh. “You’re not subtle at all, Dameron. Try picking something you have an actual chance of winning.” He shakes his head, insistent. “Keep it, I have this sweet jacket to keep me warm.” Finn tugs at it a bit -- Poe’s old jacket -- to emphasize the point. 

Poe rolls his eyes a little, but he’s smiling, and eventually he pulls on both tunics. They each take a blanket, wrapping them around themselves like capes. Finn’s not sure what to do with the tarp, so brings it back to the main passenger compartment and lays it down on one of the benches there.

BB-8 goes into low power mode to conserve his own energy; it’s not like there’s much for the droid to do. Finn’s a little jealous, though, that he won’t feel cold.

It doesn’t get cold right away, but as the hours slip by, the creeping chill in the transport grows. Poe mostly stays in the cockpit, trying to figure out if there is any way to wring more power out of the ship and listening to the static over the comms. Finn keeps his mind and body busy cleaning up the passengers compartment. Still, Finn barely notices his teeth are chattering until Poe’s suddenly behind him, crowding into him, rubbing his hands vigorously up and down Finn’s arms.

“Doing okay?” 

Finn turns into the touch, and tries not to burrow into Poe. It’s not _that_ cold yet, but it’s going to get worse. “Yeah,” he says, wrapping his arms around Poe. He’s just trying to keep Poe warm, too, okay? His brain overthinks things, sometimes. “Hungry?” he asks, pulling two ration bars from his pocket.

***

They sit in the cockpit together, chewing on the ration bars. Finn hates ration bars. 

Finn can see his breath, and there are tentacles of ice growing on the transparisteel of the cockpit viewport, like a frozen rathtar, swallowing them whole. He pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Can’t believe I miss Jakku.” 

“Right there with you, buddy.” 

There wasn’t much, wasn’t anything, really, on the ship to entertain them, but Poe was used to long hours alone on space and, as the whole Resistance knew, he was a talker, so he and Finn have no trouble filling the hours with conversation: making up constellations from the stars, or naming the craters and plains and mountain ranges of the little moon when it drifts into view. Finn picks out about six things to name after Rey before he realizes that she’d want oceans and forests named after her, not craters and deserts. Poe helps Finn practice his binary, but they give up on that pretty quickly. 

“Beebee’s a better teacher than you.”

“Won’t argue with that.”

Eventually, they just sit together, staring out the viewport, Poe uncharacteristically quiet, until eventually he says, “We should probably get some rest.” 

Sleep sounds great. Finn’s lost track of time, but not so much that he can’t tell that they’ve both been awake far too long. However the practical, soldier, part of Finn makes him say, “Shouldn’t one of us keep watch?”

Poe shrugs, which turns into a shiver. “We don’t have engines or weapons. Keeping watch only means we’ll know we’re screwed a few minutes earlier.” 

Finn considers that. “Blissful ignorance it is.” 

***

There aren’t any proper beds on the transport, just the benches. Poe immediately goes to the one with the tarp and starts arranging it, while Finn hesitates in the middle of the room. Poe lies down, holding the tarp open. “Come on Finn,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “It’ll be warmer if we share.” 

There’s logic in that, enough to overcome the residual, dumb awkwardness of sharing a bed with Poe. _Poe’s your best friend._ Finn tells himself. _Nothing awkward about it._ But there’s a traitorous part of his brain that feels like he shouldn’t be so eager for the excuse to jump into bed next to him. 

If Poe notices Finn’s hesitation he doesn’t mention it. He wraps the trap around both of them like a cocoon. 

The idea was to sleep, but they lay facing each other, foreheads together, talking, mingled breath warming the pocket of space between them. Poe tells stories about how Luke Skywalker would come to visit the force tree in his backyard, about sneaking into ancient temples on Yavin 4, about the time his dad and L’ulo got crazy drunk or high or both and woke twelve-year-old Poe up in the middle of the night to make them waffles. Poe talks until his words become sluggish and slurred with sleep, and he says, “I’ve talked enough. Your turn.” 

“My stories aren’t as good as yours.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Just talk. Talk about something warm.” 

“Well... there was that one time I accidentally started a fire in the trash compactor.” 

“Mmm, sounds toasty. Tell me more.” 

***

When Finn wakes up, their legs are tangled together and Poe has one hand on Finn’s hip, his other tucked under his own chin. Finn watches Poe’s face in the low, ambient light reflecting up off the moon. Studies the stubble along his jawline that’s started to sprout into a proper beard, watches the flicker of his eyelids, memorizes how his hair looks mussed with sleep. He doesn’t usually get a chance like this to stare at Poe. 

He can admit to himself now, in the cold and dark and quiet, that he’d like to have more opportunities like this. Wonders if it’s too late to take Poe up on that offer he made back when Finn first joined the Resistance, to be his roommate, that he turned down because he told himself it would be too much of a burden on Poe’s time. Then he wonders if being Poe’s roommate would be too much of a temptation. 

Poe starts to stir and wakes with a shiver. His grip tightens on Finn’s hip and he hums contentedly, pulling him closer for a second, maybe instinctively, before his eyes open and he stills, loosening his grip. “We’re still alive.” 

Finn nods. He forces himself to not to feel disappointment that Poe pulled back. “So far.”

Poe studies Finn’s face for a long time. Eventually, he whispers, “You need to shave.” 

“So do you,” Finn says, even as he thinks to himself that a few day’s beard growth is a good look on Poe. 

Poe yawns and stretches a little, their legs tangling further, and his hair flops down, almost into his eyes. Finn can’t help the small laugh that escapes his lips. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. Just-- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with less than perfect hair.” Before he realizes he’s doing it, Finn reaches a hand up and runs his fingers through it, pushing Poe’s hair back off his forehead. 

Poe presses into the touch and sighs. The sound sends warmth spreading through Finn. He stares, transfixed, as Poe’s eyes flutter closed at the touch. He digs deeper into Poe’s curls, scratches into his scalp with blunt fingernails. Maybe Finn’s brain has short circuited from the cold -- he’s not sure if this is a good idea, but he knows he doesn’t want to stop. He pulls back a little, unsure, and Poe whimpers and says his name low and rough, “ _Finn_.” 

That’s all the encouragement Finn needs, and he lets his hand run through Poe’s hair. They both relax into the touch. Poe’s hand is still on his hip, and Finn realizes that Poe’s thumb has slipped under his layers of shirts, and is rubbing slowly back and forth, just above his hipbone. 

Finn looks at Poe. They’ve swung away from the moon again, and the light is very low, the transport illuminated only by the stars. Still, when his eyes flicker down to Poe’s lips, there’s enough light to see Poe’s tongue dart out and lick them. 

Finn leans in, closing what little distance is left between them. 

That’s when the alarm starts blaring. 

Poe jumps up immediately and starts to untangle himself from their blankets. He pauses as he climbs over Finn, though, noses brushing. “Hold that thought. I liked where it was going.” 

***

He runs for the cockpit with Finn on his heels. The systems are failing, the power’s going out. “You want to try to shut off the gravity?” Finn asks. He hasn’t forgotten that it might shut down the oxygen scrubbers, too, but it might be their best chance.

Poe flashes him a dangerous smile. “Not quite yet -- got one more idea.” He taps BB-8, who wakes out of low power mode. 

[Rescue?] Finn hears. 

“No, not yet. I need you to do us a favor, buddy.” 

***

Poe gets BB-8 hooked up to the control board, and reverses power out of the droid, back into the ship. BB-8 won’t be able to power on again at all until they can get him back to a charging station; he’s out of commission unless -- _until_ Finn reminds himself -- they get rescued.

“How much time do you think that buys us?” 

“A few hours maybe.” Poe grimaces. “Look, Finn, I’m sorry I--” 

Finn cuts him off with a kiss, hot and desperate, despite the cold. When he pulls back, Poe looks shocked -- and pleased. Finn shrugs. “If I’m gonna die, I wanted to make sure I did that first.” 

“Glad you did, buddy. But we’re not going to die. We’ll think of something.” Poe’s an optimist, through and through. 

“Sure.” Finn says. “Back to bed while we think?” 

***

They crawl back into bed and as soon as they’re wrapped back up in their nest, Poe’s pushing Finn’s jacket off. Finn gets the idea and takes it off, along with his shirts, and Poe removes his own. Poe moves in and their chests are flush together and it is comfortable and warm and they definitely should have done this earlier. Then Poe’s kissing him, shallow, exploratory licks and first, then deeper, and Finn hooks a leg over Poe’s and drags their hips together. They both gasp and Finn feels his cock stir. 

From the cockpit, the low, ever present static of the comms drops out. “Commander, can you read me?” Finn’s never been so happy, and -- equally -- as frustrated, to hear Karé Kun’s voice. Judging by Poe’s groan, he feels the same.

Poe reluctantly pulls away and heads to the cockpit, grabbing up one of the blankets to wrap around himself. Finn scoops the jacket off the floor and pulls that on and joins Poe in the cockpit.

He catches the tail end of Poe giving their coordinates, and hears Snap Wexley’s assurances that they should be in range in under two hours. 

“We’re scrapping the bottom of the barrel on power here, so I’m turning off comms. Just bust your way in when you get here.” 

“You sure you don’t want us to knock?” Snap asks.

“Yeah, we don’t want to interrupt anything.” Karé says, a teasing lilt in her voice. Finn can hear laughter from both of them over the open comm channel. 

“Just get here as soon as you can.” Poe says before he clicks off the comms. 

“What was that about?”

Poe rubs his hands together and blows into them before looking over to Finn. Finn thinks maybe Poe’s blushing, but it might just be the cold. “I may have been nursing a pretty obvious crush on you for awhile.” 

“You coulda clued me in about it.”

“Yeah... Let’s make up for lost time?” He offers Finn his hand to help him up, and Finn leads them back to the makeshift bed. 

He drags Poe down on top of him, reveling in the scrap of his stubble on his chin as they kiss.

It’s clumsy and fumbling and awkward and perfect, and Poe whispers filthy things in his ear -- promises about everything he intends to do when they're not cramped and freezing and running out of air. After, they’re both out of breath, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Finn’s warm all over. 

Rescue’s coming. They’ll need to get dressed soon. But not quite yet. Finn presses a kiss into Poe’s shoulder. “How long?”

“Hmm?”

“The crush.”

“Oh. Since about the moment you took off that helmet on the _Finalizer_.” 

“I’m serious, Poe.” 

“So am I. Though, now that I think about it, you were awfully quick to suggest that we turn off the heat. Anything you want to tell me?”

“Yes, this was my plan all along. I thought to myself, _Finn, you might freeze your ass off, but at least you’ll finally get Poe Dameron into bed_.”

“I knew it.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“And you’re devious,” Poe says.

“I did used to be one of the bad guys.” 

“Glad you’re owning up to your evil plan.” Poe tucks himself in under Finn’s chin, draps an arm across Finn’s chest. “If I freeze to death, I’m blaming you.”

“Noted.”


End file.
